by Ford, Lizzy
“Quiet, child. You need help.” Turning to the sheriff, Nell asked politely, “Will you join us, Sheriff Hansen?”
Please say no, I willed him. I didn’t feel ready for the talk he wanted to have. I trusted Carter, despite the occasional misgivings I had about him. I didn’t know what to think about the sheriff, except that I needed time and space to clear my head.
“Much obliged but no. Give Mr. John my regards,” he said. “Tell him we found those missing sheep of his.”
“He’ll be pleased to hear it.”
The sheriff tipped his hat and started the other way around the barn, as if he, too, needed to put distance between us.
I walked with Nell around the barn and entered the house. She accompanied me to the dining parlor, where a small breakfast feast waited.
“You stay here,” she said brusquely. “Your father and Philip must be smoking cigars.”
I sat and waited until I heard Nell’s footsteps fade before I pulled my cell free.
What if someone figures out I’m not supposed to be here? Like Taylor Hansen?
I waited, listening for the sound of anyone coming.
That’s not the kind of change history needs. Carter’s response made me roll my eyes. His second message was even less encouraging. I can’t confirm it, but I think he’s one of those people I warned you about, who doesn’t want history changed. They can be motivated enemies. If you could figure it out, it’d help me decide how to manage him.
Manage him. It didn’t sound like a good thing. I sighed. I wasn’t manipulative and had never been a good liar. How, then, did I figure out what I needed from Taylor and determine which twin I needed to be wary of?
I texted Carter again. I’m having nosebleeds. Is that a side effect?
Voices came from down the hallway. I watched the text bubble pop up that said Carter was writing a response and urged him silently to hurry.
It is. Not a good one. Anything about the chip’s abilities that seems unusual?
“Aside from reading people’s memories?” I almost laughed. After a quick hesitation, I answered him. I can read living people, dead people and places. Is any of that abnormal?
Not wanting to miss his response, I slid out of the second entrance of the room into the servants’ hallway that led to the kitchens.
Yeah, it is. Let me do some research, came his response.
“Research. It’s the answer for everything.” I nibbled on my lower lip, pensive, and tucked the phone away.
So the sheriff had been correct. The nosebleed wasn’t normal.
Did I venture out and talk to him or wait for Carter to do his research? My goal was to save lives, and I wasn’t expecting anyone else in this time period to know I was from the future. Carter hard warned me about the sheriff, and now, the sheriff had warned me about Carter.
I was almost too tired to process what all that meant.
If nosebleeds were an issue, could the man in this time help me more than Carter?
And what – or who – was in the well? My stomach churned at the idea of discovering the truth, but I didn’t think I could remain here without knowing for sure.
Hearing Philip and John, I darted back into the dining room and sat down at my setting. The men entered, and John’s face lit up the way it had yesterday.
I love that. I knew I didn’t deserve it, because I wasn’t his real daughter, but I let myself wallow in the happiness of knowing I was the center of his attention.
For now. I had a list of things to do after this breakfast and the storm cleared.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Seated at his desk, Taylor listened to the storm beating doors, windows and loose planks of wood against the building. He gazed at the ceiling, thoughts burdened by the news he’d learned recently. Fighting Badger had come to him and Running Bear about Josie’s visit, but this was not his greatest concern.
His greatest concern sat in front of his desk, newly arrived during the daytime storms and rescued from his steaming crater, the same way Taylor had plucked Josie out of hers.
“I’m retired not dead, Lance,” he said at last. “Why did they think you needed to be here?”
“Ripple effect. They’re seeing changes that shouldn’t be taking place and tracked it to here and now. Lots of activity for such a sleepy little place,” Lance replied. With a sharp blue gaze and inability to sit still that reminded Taylor of an undisciplined recruit, the man before him was athletic and wary.
“I got it handled,” Taylor said.
“They don’t think you do. Besides, you are retired. This isn’t for you to handle.”
Taylor was quiet, aware that whatever he said had to be voiced diplomatically. Pissing off an aggressive man like Lance would only make it harder for him to assess what needed to be done. Lance would shoot first and leave without asking questions. It was the opposite of Taylor’s style in handling time travelers like Josie. “I know the place and people. Why not work with me?”
It was Lance’s turn to grow pensive.
“I have to live here when you’re done. I chose this place for my retirement,” Taylor pointed out. “I’d rather not make a mess like you’re known for.”
Lance flashed a smile. “I’m effective.”
“You’re sloppy.”
“I get the job done. I protect history.” Lance shrugged. “Does it matter if it’s messy or pretty, if I’m taking care of my business?”
“It matters to me,” Taylor said firmly.
“All right, Sheriff.” Lance snorted. “We’ll work together, unless you get soft and can’t pull the trigger.”
“Violence isn’t the only answer.”
“Whatever. What are we dealing with?” Lance shifted forward and rested his elbows on the desktop.
I really hate new agents. Every crop of new time agents was a little more arrogant, a little less respectful of the worlds, times and people they were charged with protecting. “Carter.”
Lance’s smile faded.
“As usual, there’s no way to tell what he wants. He sent back someone too clueless to interrogate.”
“The traveler has to know something.”
“Carter’s smart, Lance. There’s a reason he’s our number one most wanted.” Taylor tapped one of the posters on his wall in emphasis. “The traveler knows only what he told her, like every other traveler he’s sent back to different eras. I’ve interviewed hundreds of them, all with the same story about Carter.”
Lance tapped his fingers on the desk. “Her. You’ve got a soft spot for women, if what I heard is true.”
“Old-fashioned respect. I came from an era like this one. My mama beat it into me.”
“Well then, I’ll pull the trigger for you, old man.” Lance smiled.
Taylor gave him a warning look. “Not how I do business, and you won’t either, since you’re on my territory.”
“I’ll be good, Sheriff.” Lance nudged back the brim of his hat and sat back. “You know, I thought Carter was a myth.”
“He’s very real. Very active.” And getting more dangerous with the technology that lets Josie speak to spirits the way Fighting Badger does. Taylor hadn’t yet decided how to handle that issue, because it meant Carter had embedded sophisticated technology in her head that his people knew nothing about.
What was stranger: Carter obsessed over advanced technology for the brain but hadn’t yet learned how to return his travelers to the future or the times they came from. It had taken Taylor little more than two seconds to assess Josie didn’t know she was permanently stuck here, unless his people decided to return her to her time.
“All right. You call the shots. What’re we doing?” Lance asked.
“Right now, nothing. Watching.”
Lance grimaced. “I’m a man of action not waiting.”
“Then this will be a lesson for you. Patience.”
The shutters slammed against the side of his office loud enough for Lance to jump. Taylor sat still, unconcerned, while the newe
r agent shifted in his seat.
“We can wait for a few days,” Lance allowed. “But if I don’t have progress or something to tell them soon, they’re threatening to send The Mongol.”
Taylor’s hands clenched into fists. An agent taken from the Genghis Khan era, The Mongol was wild, unpredictable and strong, a man of unparalleled violence and strength. Their paths had crossed only once, for The Mongol was normally reserved for situations where absolute brute force – and usually a massacre of some size – was all that would save history from the actions of men like Carter.
Josie didn’t stand a chance against Lance. She wasn’t even a speed bump for The Mongol.
But worse than this was the sense that The Mongol wasn’t coming for one life. He never did. He was coming to reset history, to core the source of the ripples they were seeing in the future, and Taylor had an idea of what that meant.
“Then we’ll have something to tell them,” he said softly.
CHAPTER NINE
It stormed for three days straight. The worst part wasn’t Philip, who pretended to be a half-decent human being in front of John. The worst part was not being able to leave the house. Three days of food, backgammon, cards, war stories by Philip and John, nightmares like that from the first night and vague answers from Carter about what was wrong with my head.
Because there was something. He finally told me that much.
Three days of building anxiety about the well, the sheriff, the days ticking by where I couldn’t change history. I was used to the southern California lifestyle. It rarely rained like this and never for more than half a day. I was active all the time, bike riding, walking, yoga in the backyard with my aunt. I found myself doing yoga twice a day in my room during the rainout to keep from going stir crazy.
On the fourth day, the rain stopped at some point before I awoke, and the sun peeked through gray clouds to find its way past my drapes into my room. The familiar patter of rain on the roof was gone, and I rose quickly, excited at the prospect of leaving the house.
Throwing open the drapes, I studied the world outside, forbidding the clouds from opening up again. Wait until Philip is gone, I ordered them. The property was muddy. If Nell wanted to go anywhere, it’d be by horseback this day and not the carriage whose wheels would sink into the mud.
“Miss Josie!” Nell’s call came from down the hallway. “Come quickly!”
I was halfway to the door before I remembered going out in my nightgown was viewed as scandalous around here. I pulled on a housecoat and my boots and left the cozy bedroom I was starting to like.
The memory, the one from down the hallway that slid into my dreams at night, was more insistent today. Pausing, my gaze flickered to the last door. I’d intended to check it out during our time held hostage by the rain, but Nell managed to keep me busy. When not with Philip and John, I was with John, reading in his study or learning to repair buttons and mend my clothes – a task I did with absolutely no joy or skill whatsoever. My fingertips were sore from how many times I poked them accidentally.
But truth be told, I had time to visit and hadn’t wanted to, afraid of what I’d find in the room down the hallway. Afraid it’d make me think ill of John, the man whose love for his daughter only grew brighter and happier the more time we spent together. He was the sunshine of this place. After meeting Philip and Fighting Badger and beginning to doubt Carter, I wanted there to be a ray of sunshine, and I needed it to be the man who could’ve been my own father in a different place and time.
“Miss Josie!”
“Coming!” Turning away from door down the hallway, I hurried through my wing into the gentlemen’s wing, where Philip and John stayed.
Nell was in front of one room and motioned for me to hurry.
I did so, breathless by the time I reached the room that was John’s. I entered the antechamber and trailed Nell into the bedroom, where John lay in bed.
He was pale and wore a dressing gown beneath heavy blankets. The room was hot, the fireplace blazing.
He managed a faint smile. “My Josie,” he said, holding out a knobby hand.
“What’s wrong? Are you ill?” I asked. I went to his bedside and sank down in a chair, taking his warm hand.
“My body. It is weak,” John said. “My heart is happier than ever.”
“I sent for the doctor,” Nell said. “Your father awoke very unwell, Miss Josie.”
Shit. My initial thought, that I’d never leave the house and accomplish my mission, was replaced by deep guilt at the idea of begrudging the man smiling at me the way he was.
“Nell, you are to contact my friends and all my neighbors, including the savages,” John called. His and Nell’s memories were both of the day real-Josie’s mother died in this very bed.
“Is it necessary?” I asked, confused. Not John. He was a good man, one I didn’t want to see pass away.
Nell said nothing and nodded grimly.
Concerned, I stayed at John’s side, listening to his wheezy breathing. The moral dilemma raised its head once more. I didn’t really know what to do. It seemed like he deserved the truth about his daughter, but being so weak, I wasn’t certain he could take it.
“I am glad I was able to see you again,” he said, smiling.
“Don’t talk like that, Father,” I chided him. “You will be on your tomorrow and the next day … every day,” I told him cheerfully.
“I hope so, my daughter. I wish to see you married.”
Ugh! How did any self-respecting woman survive this kind of life? “Then you better stay strong and healthy, because it’ll be a while.”
He chuckled. “So stubborn. Like your mother.”
“Nell says I’m stubborn like my father.”
“Rightly so,” he agreed.
I watched his memories. They shifted to happier times, of the woman he wed thirty years before. His love for her was as strong as his was for me. I wish I’d known her. I wish he’d been my father. They weren’t the right thoughts for me to be thinking, not when I knew very well I was sent back in time for an important reason.
Yet sitting by John, I couldn’t help thinking this was where I needed to be at the moment instead of racing around the countryside to find Running Bear.
“Uncle!” Philip’s voice drew my attention. He rushed into the room, to John’s other side. “What is it? Are you dying?”
“Show some respect, Philip. He’s not dying,” I snapped.
“Peace, children,” John said. “I am dying, but it will not be today. When I am gone, you must care for my Josie, Philip.”
“Of course, Uncle.”
“Find her a suitable husband.”
“I give you my word, John, that I will not allow her to marry any man who would shame the family. I will keep my eyes on her every action.”
His statement sent a chill through me.
“Don’t you worry about me,” I urged and squeezed John’s hand. “Worry about staying strong.”
“Yes, my sweet Josie.” John’s eyes closed. His breathing remained steady, if shallow.
Unwilling to deal with Philip, I stayed at the side of my adopted father. Philip left a few minutes after John fell asleep. I studied John’s haggard face, surprised by the intensity of the pang of longing that went through me.
What would it have been like to have a father as good as real-Josie’s?
I frowned and ran my thumb over the loose, wrinkly skin of his hand. Checking my phone, I sent Carter a quick note to let him know I hadn’t had any nosebleeds yet today. His response was fast.
Good. I almost have a solution.
Impressed by the genius, my doubt about him – triggered by my last interaction with the sheriff – was once more called into question. I hated overthinking anything. I would rather trust my intuition and my faith in humanity, but it was really hard to determine what was going on here. After the three days trapped in the house, I was restless for answers, to find what was in the bottom of the well, to talk to the Native Ame
rican twins and uncover what the catalyzing event was that I was here to prevent.
Hell, I’d talk to Fighting Badger again, if it meant I learned something new.
But mostly, the same instinct that didn’t want me doubting Carter also wanted me to talk to the sheriff, the sole person here who seemed to know something I really needed to. If only he didn’t hang people at the drop of a hat …
“Miss Josie,” a man said, entering.
I looked up. He was middle-aged, slender, and dressed in black, carrying a black bag. He rested the bag on the bed beside John and touched John’s face.
“Doctor Green,” I said, glancing at Nell. “What is wrong with my father?”
“His health has been declining for months now.”
“But why?”
“His heart is bad.”
His heart is so good. I almost said something but stopped.
The doctor checked John’s heartbeat. Philip paced in the doorway, and Nell wrung her hands nearby.
“He’s resting peacefully,” the doctor said finally. “He will need more sleep. He should not leave his bed, unless necessary. Philip, may I speak to you?”
I watched the two men step into the hallway. The doctor spoke for a few minutes. Philip nodded grimly and motioned for the doctor to follow him out.
“He’s not going to make it long, is he?” I whispered, eyes returning to John.
“He may just be tired. He was more active the past several days, since you arrived, than he had been in months,” Nell said. “He wanted to go to town today.”
There was a note of denial in Nell’s tone, one that made me pity her. I was sad, but she was on the verge of being devastated. I wiped my face, compassion for the elderly man and his suffering while also wishing I had had more time to get to know him.
Two-week vacation, I reminded myself. When I get home, they’ll all have been gone for a very long time. It was an awful idea that the people around me were already dead.
“Cousin,” Philip called from the doorway. “A word.”
I hated the way he spoke to me but joined him in the hallway.
